


Divine...Intervention

by Cinnamon1895



Category: Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Other, Sillyness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-21
Updated: 2013-03-21
Packaged: 2017-12-06 01:09:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,239
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/729943
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cinnamon1895/pseuds/Cinnamon1895
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“I’m thinking that ship leaves tomorrow. I’m thinking I’m going to stop it. And I’m thinking you’re going to help.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Divine...Intervention

**Author's Note:**

> In History class yesterday we were learning about the Atlantic System, and all about the slaves who were forced to make the journey across the ocean. My friend and I wondered how Aziraphale and Crowley felt about slavery, and this is what happened.

Aziraphale wrapped his arms around his middle, shivering despite the intense heat of the African sun. Far enough to not be noticed, but close enough that his angel eyes could see, he watched as rows and rows of natives were frogmarched onto the waiting ship. His angel ears could hear everything: the frightened screams, the silent tears, the crack of a whip against a child’s back. He could _smell_ the fear, he could feel the way it crawled over their skin and slithered down their throats.

Speaking of slithering.

Crowley sauntered over to his angel, prepared for the inevitable.

“Is this one of yours?” Aziraphale asked quietly, not taking his eyes off the natives, soon to be slaves. Crowley shook his head.

“Not mine, you know this isn’t my style. I don’t think anyone from my side did this. This is all them.” He said quietly, looking at the ground. He would never admit it (it would be most undemon like) but he felt for the natives. The cries of the children made his stomach turn in a most uncomfortable way. Crowley had done his fair share of candy stealing from babies, but this sort of despair wasn’t his forte. That was all humanity’s doing. Greedy bastards.

“Why do they do it?’ Aziraphale asked, lips trembling. Crowley thought for a moment, trying to decide if the angel wanted comfort, or the actual truth. He settled on truth.

“There’s a profit to be made, angel.” He explained carefully, using the endearment to try and soften his words, “They need workers for the new colonies, for the sugar plantations. These people are easy targets.  Do you have orders to stop it?” Aziraphale shook his head.

“No. They don’t care.” He replied flatly. Crowley bit back an _I told you so_ and stepped forward. He placed a hand lightly on Aziraphale’s shoulder.

“Hey, let’s get out of here. You don’t have to watch this. Let’s fly over to Paris, that cute little bistro with the chocolate croissants? My treat?” he suggested. Zira may be an angel, but he had no qualms about indulging in a deadly sin once in a while. Particularly Gluttony.

Occasionally Lust.

But that’s a story for another time.

“No.” Aziraphale said after a moment, setting his jaw in a determined fashion. “I don’t have any orders _not_ to stop it, so what’s the harm?”

“Zira, what are you thinking?” Crowley asked, not liking the tone of the angel’s voice.

“I’m thinking that ship leaves tomorrow. I’m thinking I’m going to stop it. And I’m thinking you’re going to help.”

“Oh, I am, am I?” Crowley asked, eyebrows raised. The angel glared.

“Yes, you are. Oh, don’t give me that look. It’s hardly as if you’ll face retribution from…Down There for it. The Europeans on that ship will lose the profit from selling off those people, so it counts as causing mischief.” He said stubbornly. Crowley opened his mouth, and closed it again when he couldn’t think of a sufficient argument. He shrugged. 

“Fine. You’re lucky you’re cute.” Aziraphale grinned cheekily.

…

…

…

…

                Covered by the thick dark of night, the angel and the demon flew over the ship, staying high enough to keep out of sight. Crowley turned in the air and floated as to better speak to his companion.

                “Do you actually have a plan?” he inquired. Zira shrugged.

                “Not at all. I’m making this up as we go, I’m afraid. Although, I did have one idea…” he trailed off. Not waiting for consent, he miracled their clothes away, then replaced them with what he felt was more appropriate attire. Namely, ragged tunics and breeches and tricornered hats and eyepatches. Crowley blinked his yellow eyes.

                “Are we pirates? Really, angel?” he teased. Aziraphale huffed.

                “It’s fitting! We’ll pretend to be pirates, take over the ship, turn it around, and let those poor people go.”

                “You do realize we could just miracle them back?” Crowley complained, shifting uncomfortably in the too large tunic. Aziraphale muttered something about ‘not attracting too much attention’. Crowley didn’t pay much attention, instead focusing his energy on miracling cutlasses for the two of them. He drew his, enjoying the feeling of the steel in his hand. “Ready, angel? I’ll follow your lead.” He teased. Aziraphale pouted and nodded, gripping his weapon tightly. At his touch, the blade erupted into flames, burning brightly in the night sky.

“Oh, _bother.”_ Aziraphale huffed, glaring irritably at the sword until the flamed died out. He swooped downwards towards the ship, his amused demon close at hand. Gingerly, they landed on the top deck and ducked behind two barrels.

                “That one is the captain.” Aziraphale whispered in Crowley’s ear, pointing to a man standing a few yards away. “I suppose there’s nothing but to run up on him?’ he asked nervously.

                “This is your idiotic mission, angel. You lead.” Crowley snapped. After a moment of deliberation, Aziraphale jumped out from behind the barrel, sword drawn.

                “Avast, my dear! Um..I’m a pirate, and I’ll be taking your ship now, if you don’t mind.” He proclaimed proudly. Crowley facepalmed. The captain stared.

                “How the hell did you get on my ship! Guards! Guards!” the captain shouted. Zira’s eyes widened.

                “Oh no, you shouldn’t do that, because, um…” The angel stuttered, looking from his drawn sword to the captain. Crowley groaned and snapped his fingers. The captain and his guards fell, unconscious.

                “You finished?” he asked, dropping the cutlass on the deck with distaste. Aziraphale pouted.

                “Spoilsport.” He muttered, stomping down to the holding deck where the natives were being held. Crowley shook his head and chucked, before redirecting the ship with a twitch of his nose.

                Aziraphale pushed the heavy hold door open, and was horrified by what he saw. Hundreds, nearly a thousand natives were shoved like cargo into the cramped hold, lined on shelves in the dark and chained together. _Oh, this won’t do at all_ he thought unhappily. With a shake of his shoulders, the shackles disappeared.

                “Um, hello there everyone!” he said loudly “Sorry for the confusion, we’ll be taking you all back now. You’ll have to stay down here for the moment, not room on deck for all of you. Just, uh, hold on a tick”

…

…

…

                The demon steered the ship back safely to the coast the next morning. With great joy, Aziraphale fluttered around, opening doors and pulling down ramps by hand to let the people out of the hold. As the people began to push out, Crowley pulled him aside.

                “We should go, angel. We’ve interfered enough for one day” Zira smiled happily and took his hand.

                “ I agree, my dear. We did do a good job though, didn’t we?” he asked, leaning against his demon.

                “A little too good for my taste.” Crowley grumbled playfully. Zira elbowed him in the ribs. “Ow! Point taken. But,” he said more seriously, “You know we can’t save them all. There’s a good chance some of these people will just get captured again.” Aziraphale shrugged.

                “But we still helped.” He insisted stubbornly. “We saved them. It’s worth it. But now,” he said, a playful glint in his eye “I believe you mentioned something about chocolate croissants earlier.” Crowley laughed.

                “My treat.” He confirmed. After all of the goodness from the rescue, indulging in Gluttony would put some devil back in the demon. 

                Maybe a touch of Lust as well.

                But that’s a story for another time. 


End file.
